Page 142 of Dance With A Devil

Crunching leaves. The sound of him vanishing into the woods like a phantom with a satisfied cock.

I wait.

Longer than necessary.

When I finally pull the blindfold off, the cool night air brushes against my face like a secret. I blink up at the stars. They’re still watching. Witnessing every wicked act committed in the dark.

“That was… fucking intense.”

My voice is hoarse, half gone. My body is wrecked. My pussy aches.

I drop back onto the blanket, limbs too heavy to move, skin still tingling where he kissed and bit and broke me.

How much more can I take?

How many more Devils are waiting in the shadows, hard and hungry and ready to use me?

Will the next one be worse, or better?

Will I beg for more?

I already know the answer. And as those questions churn in my filthy, fogged-up head… I start to drift.

Sore. Full.Happy.

Sleep comes slow, thick and warm like the come still seeping out of me. I don’t fight it. Let them find me. Let themhaveme. I’m not done. Not yet.

Let the next Devil come.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Karter

Wandering through these woods, trying to track down my brat, wasn’t how I envisioned tonight going.

Nah. I had plans, filthy, glorious plans.

I pictured her bent over, ass in the air, dirt on her knees and my cock buried so deep she’d forget her name. Maybe even strung up by that perfect little waist, suspended from one ofthese ancient limbs like the desperate thing she is. Ropes cutting into her wrists, her screams echoing through the trees while I fucked the obedience back into her.

These woods were built for sins like mine.

Thick oaks. Thick silence. And soil that’s hidden bodies no one ever bothered to miss.

Wyck was the first to get his hands on her, of course he was. The bastard always gets his way. I decided I’d be the last. The one who'd finish what the others started. The grand finale. Her end, and her undoing.

But now I’m just roaming. Alone. Hard as hell.

The crunch beneath my boots is familiar, twigs, bones, secrets. The graveyard we never talk about. Our very own cemetery of traitors and loose ends. Their names don’t matter anymore. Just fertilizer now, feeding the roots of trees older than the lies that killed them.

My cock twitches thinking about fucking her on top of one.

My phone buzzes. I pull it from my pocket, thumb already itching. Group chat.

Wyck:Where is everyone? She’s only had me and Dash so far. Anyone else?

Dash:You got my alibi. I’m out.

Me:Negative.